


World Turned Colorful

by zenelly



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/pseuds/zenelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demyx falls in love on a nondescript Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World Turned Colorful

**Author's Note:**

> This is for tumblr user Bloodvirtue, as their secret santa gift! I'm so sorry that this was a bit late, but man, things happened and I wasn't able to get it up before now. ;;; I hope you like it!!

Demyx falls in love on a nondescript Tuesday.

The sky outside is boring and overcast, a flat plane of grey, uninteresting clouds, and the temperature matches the weather: damp, unpleasant. Demyx has, over the course of the day, forgotten his jacket at home, forgotten most of his coursework at home just before an important project was due, stepped in no fewer than three puddles with the shoe that has a hole in it so his sock is now soaked, fallen down twice completely on accident.

(It has not been a very good day so far.)

So it is a grumbling, upset Demyx that sees the warm interior of a coffee shop, recalculates the true value of his desire to go to class (answer: zero desire), and stomps inside, shaking off the chill. And it is there, with the first flush of warmth hitting him full in the face, that Demyx looks up, over. There, seated at one of the booths next to the full windows at the side of the store, is an actual, literal angel.

Sure, maybe he’s a bit pale, and he doesn’t look up from his book at all, and his mouth is set in what seems to be a semi-permanent little moue of a pout, but. His skin looks soft, and even from here, Demyx can see that his eyes are blue, and his nose is pointed and just a little delicate. His jaw is strong, and his hair is a faded, dusky purple, swept across his face, and just.

Wow.

Demyx is a little in love.

And that’s about as much as he gets before he literally runs into a wall.

Demyx stumbles backwards, trips. He slams down onto the ground. And then, honestly, he just kind of gives up a little bit. He stares up at the ceiling, going a bit limp as pain echoes distantly through his body.

Well, fuck.

Best way to make a first impression ever, hands down, good job Demyx.

Letting out a long, heartfelt sigh, Demyx just hopes that the massacre that this particular Tuesday has been will be over soon.

“Do you need a hand?”

His heart stutters. The young man, fair and with a voice like a low fall of water, stands over him and offers his hand down to Demyx. And stunned, Demyx takes it. Lets himself be pulled up. The man gives him a cursory once-over and then nods. “Good. You seem alright.”

Demyx just keeps staring.

The man, the beautiful, amazing, heart-stoppingly gorgeous man, raises one perfect eyebrow. Then looks down pointedly at his hand.

That Demyx is still holding.

He drops it, startled, and laughs nervously, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry, I uh. Thanks? Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” he gets in response, and that’s. That’s it.

Because he starts walking out of the store.

Demyx stares after him, the scent of coffee and wood in his nose, and he watches this stranger pull the collar of his coat up high around his jaw and nose, tuck his hands into his pockets, and walk off. And Demyx’s heart beats hard in his chest. He reaches down with shaking fingers to pull out his phone.

“Axel?” he says, breathless. “I think I’m in love.”

“Oh god.”

* * *

He doesn’t see the other boy often. Maybe once every couple of weeks. But Demyx is eager and flushed to just be in his presence alone. It’s fine. Just seeing him is enough. They spoke once, and even though the memory of his voice is fading already, Demyx remembers how it made him feel. It’s fine.

“You really need to talk to him,” Axel says, stirring his mocha with an idle turn of his hand. “You’re getting kind of pathetic.”

“Shut the hell up, Axel, seriously.” Demyx cranes his neck, trying to see who entered the coffee shop. He slumps when he realizes that it’s only Marluxia. God damn it. “I’m in love. Tragic, anguishing love.”

“I think you made him up. Or at least, you really don’t know him well enough to call it love. A serious reaction to a boner, yeah, but.” Axel waves a hand idly. “It’s you. I’m not really surprised.”

Demyx growls playfully, but it’s cut short when a server comes into his peripheral vision. He blinks up at the familiar face, and Xigbar just grins down at him.

A cup is placed in front of him.

Demyx blinks at it. It’s a unremarkable cup, really, except. He didn’t order anything. And as he turns it around, he sees something scribbled on the side.

_“Come sit with me?_

__\-    Zexion.”_ _

 

“It’s a gift,” Xigbar says helpfully, grinning wickedly. “From that guy, over there.”

Demyx looks over.

And.

That’s.

The guy.

That’s the _guy._

_The_ guy.

Demyx blinks widely, face warming up. Oh shit. But he’s staring and the other guy, Zexion, is staring back, and as Demyx is watching, he lifts a hand and waves. Just a little bit. At Demyx.

Who is screaming internally.

“Dude, don’t just sit here. Go on,” Axel says, nudging him with his foot. “Go talk to him.”

“I can’t do that,” Demyx hisses, waving back. “That’s super embarrassing. What am I going to say? “I came here a lot just hoping to run into you because you’re really pretty and I want to know all the ways you’re actually a huge dork?””

Axel spreads his hands. “Uh, yeah. Duh.”

When it becomes apparent that Demyx really isn’t going to do anything other than sit there and panic, Axel sighs and shoves his leg hard with his foot again. “Demyx. Dude. Bro. My dearest, oldest, most aggravating friend. Please. Go. Talk. To. Him. You’re desperate and pathetic, and I don’t want to listen to you wax poetic about how he was lit up like an angel and you are a poor, poor sinner who once got to bask in that glory.”

“You make it sound so tawdry.”

“Your life is a bad romance novel. Please go talk to him.”

Demyx squares his shoulders. He gets up. He walks over. He can do this. He can have a conversation with Zexion without wanting to shake to pieces. He absolutely can. (He probably can’t, but Demyx is a dreamer.)

But in the time that it takes him to psych himself up, he’s already reached the table, and Zexion is looking up at him expectantly. Demyx pulls the chair out and sits down, grinning sheepishly. “Hey, uh. Thanks for the coffee? I’m. I’m Demyx.”

“Zexion,” he says, a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth, and he folds his graceful, long-fingered hands in front of him on the table. “A pleasure to meet you. Officially. I’m glad to see that you haven’t made the unfortunate acquaintance with the pole anymore.”

“I’ve been careful, honest. Though, I did want to say thanks again for helping me up.”

“Not at all. I … have been hoping to run into you again.”

Demyx flushes darkly, and his fingers spasm around his cup. “Me too.”

And Zexion smiles fully. “It seems we have that much in common, then.”

* * *

Axel, watching the two of his hopeless fucking friends talk, surreptitiously high-fives Xigbar and slides his phone back into his pocket. “Only took us two months. Good job.”

“You owe me twenty bucks still.”

“Eh, I’ll get it from Demyx.”

“Sweet.”


End file.
